


Cingulomania (Sometimes, Dad Needs a Hug)

by CharlesWaterloo



Category: Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types, Batman and the Signal (Comics), Nightwing (Comics), Red Hood and the Outlaws (Comics), Red Robin (Comics)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon, Batfamily (DCU), Batfamily (DCU) Feels, Batfamily Dynamics (DCU), Bruce Wayne Needs a Hug, Bruce Wayne is Bad at Feelings, Bruce Wayne is a Good Parent, Dick Grayson Saves the Day, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Family, Family Fluff, Fluff, Gen, Hugs, Hurt/Comfort, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Swearing, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, but he can't for the life of him figure out how to communicate, damian makes a sandwich and we are very proud of him, everyone in the batfam loves their idiot dad very very much, no beta we die like robins, slightly ooc in the way that they all get along mostly
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-25
Updated: 2021-02-25
Packaged: 2021-03-15 21:48:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,216
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29690424
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CharlesWaterloo/pseuds/CharlesWaterloo
Summary: ‘Right,’ Tim said, in the voice he used on missions, ‘we’re going to have to call in an expert.’*‘Hey guys!’ Dick said, voice slightly crackly over Tim’s phone speakers. ‘What’s up? I’m not supposed to visit until tomorrow - is something wrong?’-Something is seriously not right with Bruce. They’re a family of detectives and no one can figure it out. It’s kind of embarrassing.They’re all starting to get worried.-(Sometimes, Bruce needs a hug.)
Relationships: Bruce Wayne & Damian Wayne, Bruce Wayne & Everyone, Cassandra Cain & Bruce Wayne, Cassandra Cain & Tim Drake & Dick Grayson & Duke Thomas & Jason Todd & Bruce Wayne & Damian Wayne, Dick Grayson & Bruce Wayne, Duke Thomas & Bruce Wayne, Jason Todd & Bruce Wayne, Stephanie Brown & Bruce Wayne, Tim Drake & Bruce Wayne
Comments: 31
Kudos: 366





	Cingulomania (Sometimes, Dad Needs a Hug)

**Author's Note:**

> I'm so proud I can finally say this: this fic was meant to be like 2k words and somehow it morphed into 6.2k of fluff and drama with bad jokes lmao. 
> 
> Anyway I hope you enjoy this. I constantly crave love lol.
> 
> Don't worry I haven't abandoned my other fic - I'm just in the process of writing the next chapter!
> 
> Lots of love! Comment and kudos if you can, no pressure :D

Bruce was projecting an aura of gloom as of late. This wasn’t especially unusual - he was Batman, after all - but there was something different about this latest bout of melancholy that was setting everyone on edge. 

He spoke less, slept less, was even seeming to eat less, which was clearly worrying Alfred. Bruce didn’t seem to be angry, just...lost. It was a soft kind of sadness, not harsh like brooding was, nor yet desperate and sharp like grief. None of them knew quite what to make of it.

No one had said anything about it, but they’d all been exchanging concerned glances more and more frequently until Tim cracked and called a meeting. Someone needed to step in. Alfred being worried was the last straw. 

One afternoon, while Bruce was at work at WE and Alfred was busy in the garden, everyone currently in Wayne manor plus Steph and (a begrudging) Jason piled themselves into Damian’s room. 

‘Why must we meet in my room? There are many better places. With more seating.’ Damian protested, as Steph perched precariously on Damian’s desk, everyone else either on the bed or sprawled on the floor. 

‘I brought snacks!’ Steph said, ignoring Damian.

‘This is why we are best friends.’ Cass said to her solemnly. ‘You are perfect.’

Steph grinned at her, wiping away an imaginary tear. 

‘Because your room is the nicest, Dames. And the tidiest.’ Duke said hastily, sensing danger. Damian immediately looked less mutinous, then tried to cover it up by scowling again, which made it look as if he’d suffered from some sort of electric shock. Jason snickered from where he was lying on the floor, head pillowed on his folded leather jacket.

‘Alright, let’s get right to it. Bruce is freaking me out and I don’t know what’s wrong with him. Theories?’ Tim said, undermining his businesslike tone by making grabby hands for Steph’s cheetos. 

‘Wait, is that what this meeting was meant to be about? I thought we were making fun of Bruce together.’ Jason said.

‘At no point was that even vaguely hinted at.’ Tim said tiredly.

‘Huh.’ Jason said, looking thoughtful. ‘Must have been drunk.’

‘No.’ Cass said.

‘Sorry?’

‘No.’ She repeated. ‘You are worried too.’

‘Don’t call me out like this, Cass. I’m meant to be the rebellious one.’ Jason replied, but didn’t deny it. The mood in the room instantly sombred. 

‘Is it near the anniversary of when, you know, his parents...?’ Duke said, trailing off uncertainly.

‘No, that’s not for months yet. This is something different.’ Tim said, fiddling with the string of his hoodie. ‘I thought it might help if we could figure out when it started. As best as I can guess, it’s been at least a week. But I can’t be sure - I’m at the Nest half the time I’m not here or with the Titans.’

‘Then perhaps you should ask someone who patrols with him every day and is a permanent resident of his house?’ Damian said sniffily. ‘Though you are correct.’ He added reluctantly. ‘Father started showing signs of… low mood approximately a week ago. I cannot think of any event a week ago that would have triggered the situation. If anything, he was happy. Richard was back from Blüdhaven for the weekend.’

‘They didn’t argue, did they?’ Jason asked.

Cass shook her head. 

Steph tapped her chin thoughtfully. ‘Was anyone hurt that weekend? He sometimes goes into one of his emo guilt-spiral things when he feels like he can’t protect us. No offense to people who have a guilt complex, though.’ She said, looking at Tim.

Tim Drake, feared vigilante, scourge of the League of Assassins, leader of the Titans and master of the bō staff, stuck his tongue out at her. Stephanie Brown, trained by Oracle and Black Bat, also a feared vigilante, owner of the best right hook in Gotham (possibly the world) and an all around badass, stuck her tongue out right back and grinned. 

‘I’ve been here the whole time’ Duke said, ‘and we’ve had a pretty good week as far as injuries go. Dick sprained his ankle last weekend and I got a graze, but it didn’t even need stitches. I don’t know Bruce that well yet, but I don’t think that’s what he’s worried about.’

‘You know him better than you think.’ Cass said to Duke, patting his shoulder. Duke smiled at her warmly.

‘Okay, so it isn’t the anniversary of anything that we know of, no one’s argued with him and no one’s been seriously hurt. That leaves...what? A case, maybe?’ Tim scrubbed a hand through his hair in frustration. ‘But I know what all his active cases are. It can’t be those. Crime’s been pretty good lately, too. Well, for Gotham anyway.’

‘It might not be us. What about the Justice League? Maybe Clark forgot to send B a BFF bracelet or something.’ Jason interjected.

‘I don’t think he’s been up to the Watchtower for a while, though.’ Tim said. 

‘We could ask Oracle about any messages father might have sent to them. She’ll know.’ Damian didn’t sound very hopeful even as he suggested it, and there was a short silence.

Temporarily stumped, they changed the subject, but the undercurrent of worry remained for the rest of their conversation.

*

Over the next couple of days, everyone watched Bruce as closely as they could without arousing his suspicions - some with more success than others. Damian was most often with Bruce on patrol, but skilled as he was in combat, subtlety was not exactly his strong suit. 

When Jason “accidentally” crossed through their patrol route, ostensibly on his way to a stakeout, he found Damian’s strategy for watching Bruce had been perfectly literal. He kept sending Bruce intense sideways glances.

Bruce looked thoroughly unnerved. 

Jason couldn’t help but find it hilarious, but made frantic motions at Damian behind Bruce’s back to stop. Damian either didn’t understand what he was trying to convey or thought he knew better, and Jason was forced to give it up as a bad job. He did have a stakeout to get to, after all. 

(It was a  _ steak  _ out, if you caught his drift.  _ God, he was worse than Dick sometimes _ , he thought to himself, then left to get a steak burrito. He was a hardworking vigilante, he deserved it.)

Before he left, he waved awkwardly at Bruce in an attempt to cheer him up. He didn’t know what else to do. Bruce smirked back at him. 

Asshole. 

*

Cass was an excellent fighter. The best in the family - she knew this for a fact. But she was better at reading body language, and the way Bruce had been moving lately was  _ sad, sad, sad _ . 

There was a stiffness in his movements that wasn’t so much his age as a sudden lack of sleep. He seemed to sigh mournfully with his eyes, sorrowful tears coiling around his spine like watery snakes, making him hunch in on himself slightly. 

Occasionally, he would shake his head imperceptibly, clearing cobwebs from his mind. Cass guessed that he didn’t want to be upset about whatever he was upset about. Maybe he felt it was wrong, somehow.

He’d only deny it, so none of them could ask. As hard as words were for Cass sometimes, she wished Bruce would talk to her. It was so easy to read people, but the very deepest doubts and insecurities were much harder to discern. Especially when you were trying to detect them in Batman. 

Cass wasn't due to go back to Hong Kong for another few weeks, so she made good use of her time in Gotham. She'd spent the past day or two joining him in his study, sitting upside down with her legs over the back of the sofa. It reminded her of the way Dick sat when he was here, and occasionally Tim. 

She knew that Bruce knew she was watching him, but she liked to watch them all anyway, sometimes, so it worked out well for her. It comforted her to see them all healthy and (usually) happy. Bruce didn’t notice anything amiss. 

Cass wasn’t the best detective in the family; she got no more clues from Bruce about why he was so dejected, but she knew he appreciated her company. 

She wished that Bruce would tell them more. Cass hated times like this.

They’d just have to work on it.

*

Three days after their Very Formal Strategy Meeting found Tim, Duke, Damian, Cass, Steph and Jason at the manor again. No one had anything to report except for Jason, who had proudly announced his discovery of “the best steak burrito you’ll ever eat, you have to try this shit”. This was hardly helpful, but Steph and Cass wrote the name of the restaurant down since they “wanted to see what all the hype was about” (in Steph’s words). 

Their meeting turned out to be exactly as helpful as the last one, which was to say not at all.

Alfred found them all huddled around a coffee table in one of the lesser used sitting rooms and promptly shepherded them into the dining room so he could serve them dinner. ‘I am most pleased to see you all here. It is a welcome surprise. The “flamin’ hot cheetos” are not. Please dispose of them, Miss Stephanie.’

Steph did so with good grace, grinning cheekily. 

Alfred had made pot roast, much to everyone’s delight. Anything Alfred cooked was delicious, but his pot roast was the stuff of legend. 

Bruce wandered in late, earning himself a disapproving eyebrow. ‘Sorry, Alfred, I thought we were eating in the kitchen…’ He trailed off as he saw the crowd of people sitting around the table.

Then, they witnessed a small miracle: the first real smile on Bruce’s face for over a week. ‘I didn’t realise so many of you had come for dinner.’

Jason looked like he was going to make a bad joke about Bruce “not getting used to it”, so Steph kicked him under the table. She was banning him from ruining the moment. 

The yelp Jason gave was rather louder than was warranted for the amount of force she’d used, though this turned out to be because Damian had also kicked Jason (very enthusiastically). It was unclear if Damian had done this for his father’s sake or if he’d just wanted to kick someone. No one particularly wanted to ask.

Jason turned his scowl of dark promise into a mangled grimace for Bruce’s sake (shocking everyone), and they all settled in to eat.

Bruce smiled a few more times over the course of dinner, looking much happier than he had been these past few days. However, there was still a note of unhappiness about him that was troubling. Every so often, he’d look at one of them and his face would close off like he’d been yanked back inside himself forcefully.

What was wrong with him?

*

After dinner, Tim had a revelation and was seized with the immediate need to share it with the others.

Before they all went their separate ways (Steph, Jason and Tim to their apartments, Cass to her room or with Steph to her apartment, and Damian and Duke to their bedrooms) he pulled them aside into the kitchen.

‘Guys, listen. I know this is gonna sound weird coming from me - but we’ve got to stop thinking about the  _ why.’ _

‘You’re right on the money there, Timbo. It does sound weird. Mostly because none of us have got a fucking clue what you’re on about.’

‘No, shut up, Jay.  _ Listen.  _ We’ve all been so focused on  _ why  _ Bruce is sad that we’ve forgotten the most important thing.  _ Cheering him up.  _ In the end, it doesn’t matter. We should just aim to make him happier.’

Duke looked thoughtful. ‘I see what you’re saying.’

‘The reason why we’ve been so focused on the why, Timothy, is because it will make it significantly easier to improve his mood if we ascertain the nature of the problem.’ Damian said haughtily.

‘Shut up and think for a minute, gremlin. He’ll never tell us. Not this century, anyway. So we should just cut our losses and fix the problem any way we can. Strategically, that makes the most sense.’ Tim retorted, with the slightly fanatical gleam in his eyes that he got when he was making a plan.

‘You’re trying to make your dad feel better, ex-boyfriend, not fight him.’ Steph said, but she was smiling like she was pleased.

‘Alright, baby bird. Calm down. We’ll do our best.’ Jason said. ‘You look like you’re gonna burst a blood vessel.’

Damian nodded solemnly, and Cass looked very determined.

Happy, Tim nodded back. ‘I’ll see you on patrol, then. Bruce won’t know what’s hit him.’

‘Jesus Christ, Tim.’

*

Damian decided immediately that while Timothy was (annoyingly) correct, cheering up father still required more planning. A few hours before patrol, he sat at his desk in his room with a notepad and fountain pen. He wrote at the top of the page: “Things That Father Likes”.

Immediately, he wrote “Justice”. Then he paused.

Two minutes later, the rest of the page remained blank.

What  _ did  _ father like? He loved his family, Damian knew. He found it hard to show it sometimes (Damian could relate), but he did. Father appreciated his friends in the Justice League, as well.

This was rather more difficult than Damian had anticipated. He wrote down “Family and Friends” anyway. Perhaps he should go back to basics? What father liked to do in his spare time, what he liked to eat and drink, that sort of thing?

Father liked to watch reruns of The Gray Ghost on television or Star Trek with the family when they had movie nights occasionally. Sometimes he listened to soft classical music in the cave, or that band “The Clash” or whatever when he drove Damian to school. 

These were all good for future plans, but it would hardly be productive to watch television on patrol. Food, then. 

Food was a tricky one. Father liked anything Pennyworth cooked, but was more concerned with keeping himself in peak physical condition than flavour. 

In some ways, Damian was glad he had not tried to do a task like this a couple of years ago, because even now, he felt he did not know his own father well. The realisation would have crushed him then, loath as he was to admit it. He didn’t feel good about it now, but Richard had told him that these things came with time. Richard was usually right, so Damian resolved not to worry himself too much. 

Damian relocated to the kitchen, having decided he would make father a sandwich for patrol. 

He felt stupid. How would a sandwich help, realistically? 

Feeling stupid usually made Damian irritable, but instead of seeking out someone for a fight, he retreated to him room once more, this time to draw. Richard would call that “growth”.

*

Throughout patrol, Damian watched Bruce for signs of sadness, but it seemed he was more focused on finding out what Poison Ivy was doing in Robinson Park again. Ivy was frustratingly nowhere to be found, so they stopped for a break. 

This was Damian’s chance.

The sandwich (turkey, lettuce and tomato, because Damian had seen father make one like that before) was tucked safely into Damian’s belt. He removed it carefully and passed it to Bruce as nonchalantly as he could manage, unwrapping his own as he did so. ‘Here you go, father.’

In his peripheral vision, he could see Bruce looking at him with surprise - but he didn’t seem annoyed. 

‘Thank you, Robin.’

Damian counted it as a success.

*

Later, Damian watched his father walk over to the Batcomputer to update the patrol logs. 

Bruce paused and picked something up that lay on the desk. Damian knew what it was - he’d put it there, after all. 

On a piece of thick paper removed carefully from his sketchbook was a drawing of the whole family in the den, watching The Gray Ghost. 

As casually as he could manage, Damian went to put his uniform away, determinedly not looking at his father. 

Out of the corner of his eye, he thought he saw Bruce smile.

*

Duke thought long and hard about what he could do for the man who’d done so much for him. 

Bruce still didn’t feel like his dad - his dad was his dad, and his mom was his mom, and he missed them both in a way he was still coming to terms with. Bruce felt more like a parent than a father. A different kind of figure. But he also felt like someone that loved him.

That was great and everything, but he still didn’t know the guy that well yet. He thought long and hard about what he could do during his patrol that morning, to no avail. By the time he had found a nice gargoyle to sit and have a break on, he’d decided that he needed help. 

As he deliberated about who to ask, his communicator beeped.

‘Meet me. We have somewhere we need to go.’ Cass said abruptly, then signed off.

Duke was about to protest that he was in the middle of patrol until he saw someone moving in the alleyway below. It was Cass.

Why was he even surprised, at this point. 

He grappled down carefully. ‘Meet you at the Hatch? I have to change. I’m assuming this is urgent?’ Cass nodded, so Duke smiled at her and grappled away again to find his bike. Cass would make her own way. She always did.

*

Duke would always be grateful to Bruce for making him his own base in the city. It was like the secret treehouse every child wants, only cooler. And with more dangerous weaponry.

Cass was somehow already there when he arrived. Duke didn’t even know how she knew to get in, but had long since stopped questioning how Cass did anything. It sometimes felt like she was the other meta in the family.

Duke changed as fast as he could, then looked at Cass expectantly for an explanation, but she was already leaving.

‘Cass? Where are we going?’

She shook her head at him and smiled, so Duke was forced to assume that it was nowhere dangerous.

To his surprise and confusion, Cass led him to a toy shop. Duke said nothing until they reached a display the very back and suddenly, he understood. 

Dozens of stuffed animals of all shapes and sizes lined the shelves, another shelf of tiny clothes to dress them in displayed opposite. There were princess dresses, pyjamas, mini sports jerseys, hats, shoes, accessories and - most importantly - superhero costumes. And, because this was Gotham and they loved their heroes, the Bats’ costumes were in pride of place. 

‘For Bruce.’ Cass said proudly. ‘I will make one. You will make one.’

Duke didn’t bother asking if Bruce would like them. Cass always knew.

‘Thanks for helping me, big sister.’ Duke said. 

‘Always, little brother.’ She replied, with a grin toothy enough to rival Dick’s. 

*

By now, Bruce must have realised that they knew he wasn’t feeling great, so Duke went along with Cass’s plan which was simply to give him his gifts without pretence. 

That evening, before patrol, Cass marched into Bruce’s office without knocking, Duke in tow. Bruce was sitting at his desk, reading through a stack of paperwork for WE and looking like he’d rather be anywhere else.

His head snapped up at their entry. 

‘These are for you. We love you. Don’t be sad.’ Cass said abruptly, placing her wrapped gift on his desk, directly on top of his paperwork.

Duke placed his neatly next to hers. ‘Feel better soon, Bruce.’

‘I...Okay. Thank you both very much.’ Bruce said with a small smile. ‘Can I open them now?’

‘Yes.’ Cass said impatiently. 

Bruce unwrapped Duke’s first, carefully and meticulously, so as not to rip the paper (it had little bats on it, because Duke hadn’t been able to resist). Despite himself, Duke laughed. ‘This is just like that time you ate a burger with a knife and fork. You’re  _ supposed  _ to rip it, Bruce. It’s part of the fun of getting a present.’

‘I’m Batman. I’m allergic to fun.’ Bruce said drily, but ripped the rest off as Duke grinned at him. Duke had chosen a bright yellow stuffed duck for reasons even he wasn’t sure of. It had a little cape with sparkly yellow bats on it and a matching fabric cowl. 

‘The cape and cowl are, uh, removable. So the duck can blend into civilian life.’ Duke said awkwardly. Bruce had been staring unblinkingly at the duck for about ten seconds, and he couldn’t think of anything else to break the silence. 

Bruce chuckled softly. ‘Thank you, Duke. He’s very cute.’ He paused. ‘He reminds me of you.’

‘He does?’

Cass looked from the duck to Duke. ‘Yes. I see it.’ She pushed her gift forward. ‘Now me.’

Cass had wrapped hers in bright pink paper that said “Happy Graduation!” in blue. It was her idea of a joke. Bruce must have found it hilarious, because he grinned widely when he read what it said.

‘You will graduate from sad to happy when you open it.’ Cass assured him.

Cass had bought Bruce a little green chameleon. It had a top hat, necklace, four shoes in different colours and styles on each of its clawed feet and a cape with the Wonder Woman logo.

Bruce smiled again when he saw it. ‘Thank you, Cass. Very colourful.’

Cass nodded, pleased. ‘Squeeze it.’

‘Sorry?’

‘She speaks.’

Bruce squeezed the chameleon. It said: “Happy Holidays!’ in a deep baritone.

Bruce snorted. So did Duke, but for a different reason. ‘Sounds like you, Bruce.’

Bruce squeezed it again experimentally. 

It did indeed sound like him.

*

Tim skateboarded around the batcave, mind elsewhere. He did his best thinking while in motion. Granted, usually said motion was fighting for his life in a high stress situation where coming up with a brilliant strategic move would save many lives, but Tim was hoping that skateboarding would still apply.

His first thought for cheering up Bruce had been to solve his cases for him, but Tim did that anyway so it’s not as if it was anything special.

Tim did an ollie down some steps (despite there being a ramp next to them - he  _ was _ still a teenager) and rolled around one of the parked batmobiles, still deep in thought. 

Maybe he could do something tech-related? Upgrade Bruce’s grapnel gun? Hack into somewhere to get some information Bruce needed? Nothing was striking him as the  _ right  _ thing. 

The realisation came mid-air, as Tim did a jump off one of the display cases. 

He rushed over to the Batcomputer, grinning all the while. If what he was about to do was going to be as fun for him as it would be nice for Bruce, no one had to find out. 

Well, other than Ra’s. 

*

Four hours later, Tim retreated from the League of Assassins network he had just completely destroyed, the things he’d been looking for saved safely to the Batcomputer.

He printed them, then left for his Nest to collect everything else he’d need. At this rate, he might even be finished before Bruce got back from WE.

He needed to talk to Steph.

*

Steph had been delighted to help as soon as Tim had mentioned “purple glitter”. 

‘I can’t believe you decided that the thing this project needed was a bit of light hacking with a bonus of wanton destruction. You realise Ra’s is gonna try to kill you again, right?’ Steph said, waving her glue stick at him. Tim leaned back - she was treating it too much like a sword for him to feel entirely safe.

‘It’s fifty-fifty, if you ask me. Either he’ll try and kill me again - and fail, because he’s an idiot - or he’ll try and pretend he’s impressed while acting all imperious because he knows he can’t possibly win against all of us at once. It’s his way of preserving his dignity.’ Tim replied, flipping a page and handing a sticker to Steph. It was a pink bunny rabbit in a tutu. Steph took it with a nod of approval and stuck it carefully in the corner of the page, surrounded by a delicate halo of lilac glitter.

‘Either way,’ Tim carried on, ‘I don’t care. It was worth it.’

Steph smiled at him. ‘So true, bestie.’ 

Tim groaned, pulling a face at her.

They carried on with their work for another half an hour, until Steph pronounced them finished. Tim flipped through the pages of their creation and suddenly felt unsure. ‘Do you think he’ll like it?’

‘I’ll kick his ass if he doesn’t. But I won’t need to, because I know he’ll love it.’ Steph said. It was very comforting, in a Steph kind of way.

Tim grinned at her. ‘Wanna come and give it to him with me? Alfred made dinner.’

‘Only for the food, then.’ She said.

They both knew that was a lie.

*

Tim and Steph carefully put their creation on the Batcomputer, then retreated to the training mats to spar and keep an eye on his reaction at the same time. 

Bruce came down the stairs a short while later carrying a cup of coffee and looking dead on his feet. Tim looked at Steph, worried. He hadn’t been at WE for that long, and he usually only went to keep up appearances. All the actual work for the company Bruce did at his office in Wayne manor. When had he last slept?

Bruce faltered as he saw the large purple book they’d left next to the keyboard. He opened the first page. Stopped. Almost dropped his coffee, knuckles whitening as he clutched at the cover.

Tim and Steph didn’t need to say anything to each other. They pelted over to him as one.

‘Bruce?’ Steph said tentatively. ‘You okay?’

‘Tim.’ Bruce choked out. ‘Where did you get this?’ He pointed to the photo on the first page. It was of Damian as a toddler, all chubby cheeks and huge eyes and soft dark skin, hair sticking up in black tufts.

‘I hacked into Ra’s’ network.’ Tim said quietly. ‘I’m sorry, Bruce, I didn’t -’

‘No.’ Bruce said quickly. ‘I- I don’t -  _ Thank you.  _ I can’t believe - I tried to find photos, but I thought they’d all been destroyed.’ He looked at Steph. ‘Thank you, both of you. I don’t know what to say.’

‘No problem, B-Man.’ Steph grinned. ‘Turn the page. You haven’t seen my magnum opus.’

Bruce began to flip through the album, purple glitter dusting his fingertips. He didn’t seem to mind, smiling down at the pictures. They were mostly from Tim - photos from when Tim used to follow Bruce, Dick and Jason around Gotham, candids from days out and movie nights, family photos and pictures of Gotham illuminated by the glow of street lamps. Steph had contributed some of her own - selfies of her and Cass, Alfred smiling at Bruce and her “magnum opus”: a slightly blurred though undeniably brilliant photo of Jason with flour on his nose and a cake pan in the background, looking murderous. 

Bruce’s smile had grown wider with every page he’s turned, and he’d laughed softly at the photo of Jason.

‘I had to run halfway across Gotham to get away after getting that one.’ Steph told Tim conspiratorially. ‘I thought he was gonna kill me.’ She sighed wistfully. ‘Good times.’

*

In all honesty, Jason wasn’t sure Bruce was gonna like this. But fuck him, he wasn’t going to put any more thought into it. He was a busy guy. He had people to shoot (non-lethally, shut  _ up,  _ Bruce), things to blow up, cases to solve, books to read. Memories to repress. 

While the oven was preheating, he made the dough. It was vanilla, because Bruce was boring. 

Eggs, flour, seeds from a vanilla pod (he used to use vanilla essence, but Alfred had got him started on the vanilla pods and he couldn’t go back, even though they were expensive), butter, soft brown sugar, a pinch of salt and a touch of cinnamon and nutmeg.

The dough was finished in no time, because Alfred had trained Jason well. He rolled it out and cut the shapes with a knife (it was a bowie knife, but no one needed to know), lifted them carefully onto a baking tray and slid it into the oven.

The icing took longer because he had to use so many colours. Black, red, yellow, green, blue, white, purple and brown - Jason closed his eyes, trying to picture something. Those should be right. 

Not that it mattered if he was accurate, because Jason wasn’t putting that much effort into it, he thought, checking the cookies were cool enough to start decorating, and measuring out where each colour should go with a ruler.

(If Jason was going to live in denial, he was going to be  _ good _ at it, god damn it.)

After a solid hour, the decorating was finished. He boxed them carefully and headed out to his bike.

*

Jason put them in the kitchen at Wayne manor and left at a very reasonable and not at all fast speed. He was  _ not _ running away.

*

Tim sent Jason a text a few hours later with several thumbs up emojis. Jason opened it and found a photo of Bruce looking delighted at the tiny cookie version of each of the Bat Family members. He was holding the Batman cookie in his palm.

Tim sent another text seconds later.

**Timbo:** B loved them lol. can i eat mine?

**Jay:** whatever i don’t know what youre talking about. who made those they must be really talented

**Timbo:** so can i eat it

**Jay:** yeah fine

**Timbo:** i would die for you

**Jay:** dont you dare thats my thing

**Timbo:** you’re so emo lmao. love you

**Jay:** shut the fuck up 

**Jay:** love you too

*

While Bruce seemed happier than before, an undertone of melancholy still seemed to hang around him like a shroud. It was beginning to seriously worry them all. This kind of sadness had, as Steph put it, “weird vibes” to it. 

That Friday, Tim called another Very Formal Strategy Meeting. 

‘What if he’s not feeling any better but he’s just hiding it more now that he knows we’re onto him?’ Tim said.

Cass shook her head. ‘He’s… missing something. He wants something? I don’t know.’ She said with a scowl. She was frustrated she couldn’t learn anything more from him. 

‘Look, I know I’m the new kid, but I don’t think all this was a waste. He seems like he’s at least slightly better to me.’ Duke said. ‘I don’t think we’re doing anything wrong, exactly.’

Jason nodded at him. ‘He’s a big boy. He can sort through his feelings or whatever by himself. We’ve done what we can.’

Damian said nothing, which meant he was worried. Steph put an arm around him and he only half-heartedly attempted to shake it off, which was even more telling.

‘Right,’ Tim said, in the voice he used on missions, ‘we’re going to have to call in an expert.’

*

‘Hey guys!’ Dick said, voice slightly crackly over Tim’s phone speakers. ‘What’s up? I’m not supposed to visit until tomorrow - is something wrong?’

They summarised the situation quickly, half expecting Dick to tell them not to worry and that Bruce would get over it. To their surprise and concern, however, he said: ‘I’m driving down now. See you soon.’ And ended the call.

The tension that lingered after that was oppressive. 

No one said a word.

*

Dick arrived three hours later, not even bothering to come to the front door. He drove straight into the cave and hopped out of his car almost before the engine had quieted. 

‘Dick?’ Bruce called down to him, voice laced with surprise. ‘What are you doing here? I thought you weren’t coming until tomorrow night?’

The others watched as Dick said nothing, striding over to Bruce. 

Bruce frowned. ‘Is something wrong? What happ - oof!’ 

Dick had run the last few steps and launched himself at Bruce, who caught him deftly, staggering a little as Dick wrapped his limbs around him like a koala. 

Everyone watched with bated breath. Even Alfred paused, duster in hand.

Bruce simply repositioned his arms, the better to hug Dick, then buried his face in Dick’s hair. 

‘What happened, son? Tell me - I promise I can help, don’t -’

Dick let go, falling gracefully to his feet. ‘Nothing happened, B. I was worried about you. Apparently everyone’s been freaking out this past couple of weeks since I’ve been here because you’ve been acting weird.’ Dick looked at the various other bat vigilantes around the cave. ‘I would’ve come sooner, but no one told me you weren’t feeling okay, which we will  _ definitely  _ be talking about.’ 

Someone gulped audibly.

Bruce looked at them all, frowning. ‘What? I haven’t been acting weird.’

‘You’ve been sad, father. It is concerning.’ Damian said in a strange voice. It was almost timid.

‘We tried to cheer you up but it didn’t work and, I don’t know, we had meetings and I couldn’t think of anything that would have upset you -’ Tim rambled, words increasing in speed and pitch as he carried on.

‘What he’s trying to say is that you’ve been very “tall, dark and brooding” lately, B - emphasis on the brooding. Different to the usual brooding. I don’t even live here and you were freaking me out.’ Jason said, with very little of his characteristic bluster.

‘You’re right.’ Bruce said, shockingly. ‘I apologise. I just… I needed…’

‘ _ A hug.’ _ Cass said. ‘I understand now.’

Bruce sighed, and suddenly looked very tired. ‘I’m so proud of you all, but I find it hard to let you go. I know it’s selfish, and I wouldn’t want to change anything for the world - but I miss you terribly.’ 

He turned, addressing Dick solely now. ‘When you were here a couple of weeks ago and sprained your ankle in that fight, I noticed that you felt heavier than usual when I carried you to the batmobile.’

‘All muscle!’ Dick said, nettled.

‘We love you whatever your body looks like, Dickie.’ Jason said solemnly, walking over to stand beside Dick, pinching his side hard enough to make him yelp.

‘That’s not what I meant.’ Bruce said with frustration. ‘I realised that you weren’t heavier - but I was weaker. I’m getting older. It’s fine - it happens. I was just glad that I could hold you, even for a little while. And then I was just angry at myself for never asking for a hug when I know they’re always freely given.’

‘All you wanted was - a hug?’ Duke said, sounding baffled and touched at the same time.

Bruce stumbled over his words. ‘I know you all have... boundaries - I know you don’t mind, but… Well, you’re all growing up, and it didn’t seem right -’ He scrubbed a hand down his face. ‘I really am getting old. God.’ 

He smiled weakly. ‘You’re all your own people, with your own lives, and you’re doing incredible things. I can’t interrupt that. I couldn’t be prouder of you all for that.’ 

He ran a hand through his hair. ‘Yes. I wanted a hug. I miss you all and I don’t want to intrude, but I don’t feel like I see you all that often these days. I’m sorry if I worried you.’

‘Oh,  _ Bruce.’  _ Alfred said, eyes suspiciously watery. Dropping his duster, Alfred walked over to hug him tightly, followed closely by Cass. 

Dick was next, followed closely by Damian, then Tim and Steph, who pulled Duke along with her. Finally, Jason sighed and joined the rest of them in hugging a very overwhelmed Bruce, standing in a circle of warm limbs. 

‘I love you, Dad, but you are  _ such  _ an idiot.’ Jason said from somewhere underneath Dick’s arm. Cass snorted.

‘Shh.’ Steph said. ‘Don’t ruin the moment.’

‘You okay, Dad?’ Tim asked. ‘Oh.’

Bruce’s face was shining with tears. He laughed. ‘Yes, thank you, Tim. I’m right where I need to be.’

After a moment, Dick broke the silence. ‘How was your week, Dami?’ he asked.

‘Interesting, due to events I am sure you can guess.’

Dick chuckled. 

No one seemed inclined to move, safe near their father and grandfather and siblings. 

‘The cookies were delicious, Jason.’ Bruce said, raising his head.

‘I have no idea what you’re talking about.’ Jason replied promptly. ‘But I’m sure whoever made these mysterious cookies must be very talented. And smart. And handsome. I wouldn’t know, though, because I don’t know anything about said cookies.’

They broke apart as Duke snorted. ‘Very humble, too.’

*

Over the next few weeks, a new tradition was born in Wayne manor. 

Damian liked to call it “bicep strength training”.

Steph, Duke, Tim, Jason, Dick and Cass called it “The Art of the Bat Hug”.

To Alfred, it was “hugging your father - I am not entirely sure it needs another name”.

Bruce kind of liked the “Bat Hug” thing. He did have a theme, after all. 

**Author's Note:**

> Anyway idk if you liked it I can write a sequel or something idk.
> 
> Come and chat on tumblr, I make batfam memes sometimes and idk it seems like people like them: https://charleswaterloo.tumblr.com/
> 
> Have a great day <3
> 
> If you see a typo/mistake, tell me! I will correct it!


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